Younger has been working on the farm with his grandpa, getting hot and dirty, enjoying his summer chasing cows and baling hay. So, I wasn’t too terribly surprised when his grandpa warned us Younger might be particularly sore one night.
“What’d you do?” I asked him, distractedly, gathering the necessities for our dinner.
“He got thrown from the 4-wheeler,” my husband informed me, successfully snagging my full attention. At my frown, aware of my ambivalence towards the all-terrain vehicles, he shrugged, “He found a hole.”
“I didn’t find a hole,” Younger denied. “I just…lost the ground.”
Because there’s a difference, I suppose.
Maybe I need the Y chromosome to see it.